Sam
by julie1237xbones12
Summary: A Spam In The Oven Challenge! Based on Juno, Sam and Spencer have one night together that results in a bad result.
1. Chapter 1

**(((This is part of the Spam in the Oven challenge by QueenOfTheSpazes. It's going to be like the movie **_**Juno**_**, so bear with me. Also bear with me with the fact that I promised not to do any stories until **_**DOAPT**_** is done and broke that promise twice. Thank you all.)))**

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_Sam's POV_  
I can't believe I'm going to say this, but, it started with a couch. More importantly, Carly's couch. She was sleeping over at Missy's house, as they stayed in contact. I didn't mean to sleep with Spencer, but that's what happened. We were watching TiVo, and I saw the Blaire Witch Project.

"The Blaire Witch Project!" I squealed. "I think we should watch this."

I had told my mom I was sleeping over at Carly's but didn't realize she was sleeping over at Missy's. Spencer invited me to stay, so I did. He was about to change it to the Blaire Witch Project, but I stopped him.

"Let's make out," I said.

"_What?!_" he cried. I was his kid sister's best friend—sixteen years old, I might add. He was twenty-nine. Why was I so attracted to him? Maybe it's because I thought he was funny, and I always like a good artist. In fact, we were in a band together—him, Socko, Tyler, and me. The only girl in an all-boys band. I played drums, which is good, considering no one else would pick up a drumstick, let alone play.

"Yeah. Come one, Carly's not home, it's just you and me…in the dark." I was trying to hint I wanted something more, and he seemed to get it. He positioned himself—naked—on the couch. I already had my shorts off and slipped out of my underwear. I walked over to where he sat and positioned myself close to him. I got extremely close and let my head go beside his, so that our heads were parallel.

"I've wanted this for a really long time," Spencer said, and I wasn't sure if he meant from me or just wanted it in general.

"Yeah." I said it simply just to fill the silence that had settled.

"Wizard," he said. Slowly we started to…

The sound of a dog barking brought me back to reality. I was standing outside my shabby house, close to the neighbor's house. Apparently Mrs. O'Connor had to get the freakin' loudest dog on earth, and anmed him Banana. Why? Hell if I know. But the barking drove me so mad I could spit.

"_Geez_, Banana! Shut your friggin' gob, okay?!" I finally yelled at the dog, and he whimpered. I was looking at the most magnificent discarded living room set I had ever seen in my life. It looked exactly like Carly's in every way.

I was on a mission. My mission, you may ask? My mission was to walk through Seattle to Dancing Elk Drug and buy a pregnancy test—my third one today. I had a huge Sunny D carton I was drinking out of to make me have to pee—_badly._ I walked the three blocks to the drugstore slowly, so that I could make sure I really had to go once I got there.

Walking down the street, the over obsessed Marathon For Life runners ran by. I careened myself through the adults, careful not to stand too close. Spencer was one of them, but he wasn't with them yet. They had to run by his house for him to join in.

My walks to the drugstore were a little different. I was always an unusual girl, and taking a walk was no different. I tried for the umpteenth time to hitchhike, and someone actually slowed: the jocks.

They were driving a car, and they slowed down, Alexander Maxwell gawking at me. "Puckett," he said tauntingly.

"Maxwell," I said back.

"You need a ride?" he asked to taunt me. The light turned green and already they were driving away, laughing all the way.

"Not from you meat puppets," I called. I figured it was much better to walk than to get a ride from them. Not that I'd want them there when I found out my fate. It was better to do it alone.

_Alone._ That made me shudder. How would Spencer react to all this? I never thought that through. Suppose I _was_ pregnant. Suppose inside my sixteen year old body was a twenty-nine year old man's baby. I shuddered at the thought of me having practically a pedophile's baby. Pedophile. The word didn't come _close_ to describing Spencer. Not even close.

I hadn't told Carly I had the hots for her brother. That would be too weird to do. But if I _was_ pregnant, she'd find out eventually, right? I mean, when people get pregnant, usually an offspring results.

Whoa. An _offspring._ That was scary to think about.

Apparently I was faster than the runners, because they caught up to me. One of them hit me in the shoulder and made me spill some of my Sunny D. I rolled my eyes, took another swig, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve as I shut the lid to the canister. I had a lot to think about. Sighing, I took another drink.

Okay, that was a bad plan. What was I thinking? Now, Spencer might be arrested for impregnating a sixteen-year-old girl when he was an adult. This is so Jamie Lynn Spears. Cliché.

As I walked to the drugstore, I put my headphones in my ears and played my favorite:

_If I was a flower growing wild and free,  
All I'd want is you to be my sweet honeybee.  
And if I was a tree growing tall and green…_

As this was going on, I stopped walking a bit and turned down the volume. I didn't need any pesky spies. Play.

_All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves.  
If I was a flower growing wild and free,  
All I'd want is you to be my sweet honeybee.  
And if I was a tree growing tall and green…_

If I made a movie of my life, I'd call it Sam. Simple and easy. Like me.

_All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves._

Whoa, I am _not_ easy. Easy in brains, yes. Easy in bed? Not so much.

_All I want is you, will you be my bride?  
Take me by the hand and stand by my side.  
All I want is you, will you stay with me?_

I heard birds chirping as I tried to clear my head of all thoughts of me being 'easy'. Having 'it' with Spencer was the biggest decision of my life. But I loved him, and isn't that all that mattered?

If only it were that simple.

_Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea._

I get seasick. I don't like this line. Hey, seasickness is like morning sickness. Oh, God.

_If you were a river in the mountains tall,  
The rumble of your water would be my call._

Water? Like amniotic fluid? How does all this relate back to pregnancy?

_If you were a winter, I'd be the snow,  
Just as long as you were with me when the cold winds blow._

Crap. That reminds me of the night this happened. It was cold in the living room, and I wanted the heat on bad. I don't think Spencer liked me; he probably invited me to stay because he felt bad for me and my loneliness. His mistake. Whoops.

As I approached the drugstore, I took a long, final swig of my Sunny D, threw it away, and stepped inside. Third one today. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone I knew was watching, then stepped inside. Here goes nothing.

**(((I know you were expecting her to find out in this chapter, but I got things to do, honey. By the way, I have nothing personal against Jamie Lynn Spears. In fact, I respect her decisions to keep and raise Maddie. That takes a lot of nerve to do. So that's it. See ya. PART OF THE SPAM IN THE OVEN CHALLENGE BY QUEENOFSPAZES!!!!)))**


	2. Chapter 2

**Decided to update to stay in the contest that I wrote this story for. Good idea, right? :P**

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I waited for the automatic doors to open. The doors at the drugstore in town had slow automatic doors that took a while to open, but eventually did, so I went inside. I grabbed the third test of the day. I was getting really tired of this plastic sticks of doom—appropriately nicknamed, I might add—as the other two had predicted my doom already, but I still refused to believe what the little pink plus sign said. Plus, one of them looked more like a division sign.

I approached the counter where the cashier, Rollo, tried to make yet _another_joke to what was going on. "Hey, if it isn't Puckett the Crime Dog!" Ugh. What a horrible pun on his part. "Back for another test?"

Uh. _Duh._

"I think the last one was defective," I said, walking towards the counter. "The plus sign looked like a division symbol, so I remain unconvinced." I reached for the bathroom keys but Rollo took the passkey—a _bathroom_with a passkey? This isn't the freaking Chambrulay Hotel!—before I could grab it, holding it next to his face. A cheerleader in the corner sneered.

"Third test today, Mama Bear," Rollo stated matter-of-factly. "Your eggo is preggo, no doubt about it."

"Third test?" she said, scoffing. "It's real easy to tell. Is your nipples real brown?"

Uh...interesting conversation.

She knocked into a display case as she walked and make-up fell out of her jacket and clattered on the floor. "Aw, balls!" she muttered.

"You planning on paying for that?" Rollo asked.

"I had my first abortion when I was about your age," she said smiling, completely ignoring Rollo's question. "It was fun!"

"Shut up!" I said, turning back to Rollo when I finished yelling.

"Maybe your boyfriend's a mutant, knocked you up twice," Rollo said in mock humor.

"Silencio, old man!" I cried in frustration. "I just drank my weight in Sunny D, and water and crap, and I gotta go pronto!" I held my hand out and waited impatiently for the bathroom key.

Rollo hesitated but eventually held out the key. "You know where the John is." Boy did I. I walked off. "Hey, you better pay for that when you're down! Don't just think it's yours cause you marked your territory! My grandson needs braces and you kind of need money to pay for that!" _Rea-lly?! _I would have never guessed....

"Jesus, I never said it was!" Or did I? I dunno, hell if I remember.

Before entering the bathroom when Rollo and the cheerleader weren't looking at me, I looked down my shirt to see if my chest area really _was_ brown. Yup.

I locked the bathroom door behind me. The bathroom was so tiny that I had to walk around carefully to have room. I pulled down my jeans and boxer shorts—uh, duh, I wear boxer shorts. Get used to it—and tried to use the thing. I was just glad I got to pee.

The pregnancy test companies are so funny. The box says the test is called "TeenWave Discount Pregnancy Test". The teen on the box is shrugging with a confused look on her face. Hon, the plus sign means you're screwed—no pun intended.

The one line that didn't make me so sure of the results of this test was that underneath the name it says, "From the Makers of Cloud-Glitz Lightening Hair Spritz!". The joke is that in Washington it's not exactly _sunny, _and they misspelled 'lightning'. Oh, wait, 'lightening' is a stage in pregnancy....My bad.

Finally, I was finished with the death stick and finished up in the bathroom. I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure I didn't flush. Whoops.

As I walked back out, I saw a _huge_ licorice rope and picked one up. Yum. Snack.

"So what's the prognosis, fertile Mertyle?" Rollo asked as I set down the empty box and licorice on the counter. "Minus or plus?"

"Don't know, it's not seasoned yet," I said, taking it out of my pocket, examining the thing. "I'll have one of these," I added, sliding the licorice over the counter to Rollo. "Wait." I was examining the little testing window on the stick. "Huh. There it is. God, that little pink plus sign is so unholy...." I shook the test in attempt to skew the result. _Shake. Shake._ Nothing.

"That ain't no Etch-A-Sketch," Rollo reminded me. Thanks, dude. Thanks a _whole lot._ "This is one doodle that can't be undid, home skillet." Uh...what did he just say?

"What person actually talks like that?" I asked.

"What _teen_ actually talks like that?" Rollo argued.

"Touché," I muttered, grabbing my purchases, slapping bills on the counter, and I turned and left. I took my licorice out of my bag as I went, and I threw away the box and death stick as I walked. I sighed. Well this sucked.

When I got close to Bushwell Plaza I saw a tree with a low hanging branch. I threw the licorice around the branch and put my head in the empty space like a noose. I pulled on the rope and immediately I started to choke. I got out of my makeshift noose by taking a bite of the licorice.

I contemplated going to Carly's house, but I wanted to go home first to call her to tell her I was coming, you know, to be polite...for once. I went to my room which was covered with posters of _amazing_bands (Cuttlefish, Guns N Roses, Counting Crows, Plain White T's, and Metallica, to name a few, not to mention ACDC). My bed was a mess so I shoved the stuff covering it onto the floor, and immediately found my hamburger phone. It's like a cheeseburger from McDonald's.

I dialed Carly's number.

"Yo-yo-yiggety-yo," she greeted. Long story short, me and Carly had an experience at summer camp last year, and now we use that saying all the time.

"I am a suicide risk," I said back, articulating each syllable but speaking fast at the same time.

"What? Is this Sam?" Carly asked. I felt something brush against the phone and guessed Carly was painting her nails. Uh, gross. Not that I don't like the occasional clear coat or black polish occasionally. But Carly liked pale pink colors on _her_ nails.

"No, it's Morgan Freeman. Got any bones that need collecting?" I said sarcastically, even though Morgan Freeman wasn't in _The Bone Collector._

"Only the one in my pants," Carly said giggling. We're so dirty.

I smiled momentarily at my joke before I admitted, "Dude, I'm pregnant."

"What? Honest to blog?" I figured Carly was so shocked she said 'blog' rather than 'God'.

"Yep."

"Maybe it's just a food baby. Did you have a big lunch?"

Carly of all people knows that I have a big lunch everyday...typically of meat.

"It's not a food baby. I took three pregnancy tests and fo shizz up the spout," I said, imitating Rollo. Ah, the memories....

"How did you generate enough pee for _three_ pregnancy tests?" Carly asked in awe, and I had to admit, I was expecting that. Big time.

"I drank like ten million things of Sunny Delight." How delightful. "Anyway, yeah, I'm pregnant. And you're shockingly cavalier." I didn't even know I knew that word, but whatever. It fit into the conversation perfectly.

"Is this for real? Like, for real, for real?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Carly should know I wasn't kidding.

"Oh my God! Oh, shit! Phuket Thailand!"

"That's kind of the emotion I was looking for in the first take," I added. I had no idea what 'Phuket Thailand' meant.

"Well, are you going to Havenbrooke or Women Now for the abortion? You need a note for your parents for Havenbrooke. I wrote one for Valerie last year."

"Yeah, I know," I said. I had heard that Valerie had an abortion last year but didn't think it was _real,_ but now I had all the proof I needed for it to be real. Carly admitted she wrote the note for her. The evil witch deserved it to be honest. "Women Now, I guess, cause they help women now..."

"Want me to call for you? I called for someone last year."

Geez, Carly, you're big in on the pregnancy ordeal! "Eh, I'll call them myself. Thank the Lord for hamburger phones." Suddenly, I figured out how to tell Spencer, but it would be risky. _Very risky._Like if I got caught, spending-the-night-in-Juvy risky. "But I do need your help with something..."

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**Thanks everyone. I think you know what's happening next. :D Please review! Oh, and I know I used real life bands, but I love the bands I mentioned, so I just left it like that.**

**fishstix2006: You really think it's good? Thank you. That means a lot to me.**

**shillingklaus: (((Sorry, had to put your penname like this or else it disappears when I publish the story))) I didn't know about the whole Washington thing, but thanks for mentioning it. :D She just told Carly, but Carly's probably confused on who the daddy is. She'll probably be shocked to know it's her brother! But anyway, I can't wait to put up everyone's reactions!**

**luvrickyunderwood: SLAT penname, I presume? ;) I'm working on writing a majority of the story this weekend, so I'll just upload chappies when I have time. Juno is an amazing movie, I took my sister Annemarie to see it two years ago like the day it came out (((she was eleven but whatever, we both loved it, other than when it makes fun of Madison, cause we have a friend named Madison...but yeah still hilariously funny))). And we watch iCarly all the time, too. So yeah.**

**Reviews!**

**:D**


	3. Chapter 3

**I got bored so I decided to update. I have a majority of this written now, so I just need a reasonable number of reviews to continue. Thanks to everyone that bothers to read the story! :P**

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Okay, you want to know my crazy plan that could get me sent to Juvy? I'll tell you:

Remember how in the beginning of these memoirs—whoa, I have a _memoir_—I said Mrs. O'Connor was my neighbor? She has an amazing living room set on her lawn that looks just like the furniture and decorations of Carly's living room. My plan was to jack that living room set—yes, I said _jack_ a _living room set_ for Pete's sake—and take it over to Bushwell Plaza and plant it in front of the apartment complex so that Spencer would see it when he went to run with the Marathon For Life runners. I had to time it just right, though, so spencer would see me as he left, and he had to be the first to see it, or else I'd be in serious trouble with the law, so I had to time it _just right._

It was going to be difficult.

Luckily, I had Carly with me to help me out with this escapade. I figured I'd have to tell her sooner or later Spencer was the daddy of my baby, and…I chose then to do so. When I was driving (Carly persisted that she drove, considering she _wasn't_ pregnant, but I refused; my ridiculous scheme, my car, my driving), I broke it to her. She took it reasonably well—she didn't try to strangle me—but I could tell she was shocked—who knew I'd have the hots for her brother? Gross, right—or is it just me that thinks that?

I slowed to a stop in front of Bushwell. I had the entire living room set in my trunk and backseat. We just had to arrange it on Carly's lawn. She even brought a picture of her and Spencer in the living room so we could everything just right. I had to hand it to her, she thought of everything.

We got out of the car and I threw open the trunk. I was driving my mom's beat up green Honda van. Okay, it wasn't beat up, but it wasn't new. Just…_used._

Me and Carly struggled to pick up an exact replica of her couch. We made a formidable team. We nearly tripped every three steps. But then again, I was the only one making sure we weren't running into anything (Carly had her back on Bushwell) and I wasn't exactly graceful to begin with.

"Heavy lifting can only help you at this point," Carly said. Did she have to bring up the pregnancy every five seconds? Sheesh.

I grunted. "That is sick, man."

Carly started laughing, doing a perfect impersonation of Freddork.

"So, you were bored? Is that how this blessed miracle came to be?"

"Nah, it was a premeditated act," I replied, careful to avoid a fallen branch on the ground as we walked. I didn't want to trip. Suddenly I realize what it sounded like I said, so I finished in a hurry, "The sex, I mean, not getting pregnant."

"This is awkward talking about my brother having sex with my best friend," Carly said, smirking though she didn't think it was actually very funny.

"Agreed," I said, even though it was _my_ sex life.

"So when did you decide you were going to do my brother?" Carly asked in humor that I wasn't sure if it was genuine or mock.

"Like, a year ago on iCarly."

Spencer had come on iCarly. We had put three bowls—one with golf balls, one with meatballs, and one with warm water—in front of him. I wasn't sure what the point of the segment was, all I remember is that Spencer was blindfolded, but Spencer put his hand on mine, our signal that he was trying to tell me something that he couldn't say out loud. We didn't make it obvious that we touched, it was under the table. I looked down for a split second and saw a note, and gingerly and slyly I picked it up, reading it under the table. I looked up, smiling at Spencer, though it looked like I was smiling at the segment.

Carly stopped walking. I had to dig my heels into the ground to keep from falling flat on my face, as I hadn't expected the sudden stop. "You _love him,_" Carly said matter-of-factly.

"It's extremely complicated, and I'd rather not talk about it in my fragile state," I said, hoping to end it there. However, that wasn't what Carly wanted. We finally put the couch down in just the right spot. We walked back to the van to get the next piece of furniture, which was practically a clone of Carly's coffee table.

"So, what was it like humping Spencer's bony bod?"

I have to admit I was shocked by that question. It was so unlike Carly to ask. Plus, it was about a subject that I had tried to change, and…well, it was private, and Carly's brother! But I couldn't lie to her.

I heard myself cry out, "It was magnificent, man!" If I wasn't helping Carly take the coffee table over, I would have clasped both hands over my mouth. This was _Spencer_ we were talking about, not the latest movie in theaters.

Carly laughed and I nearly dropped the coffee table on her foot.

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The next morning I got a text from Carly saying Spencer was up. I darted to the couch in front of Bushwell. Here goes nothing…

Spencer's typical daily routine was to wake up, put on his Marathon For Life uniform thing, put on some deodorant stick thing, and make a hot pocket to eat for breakfast. Oh, yes, very eventful…

He walked outside, stretched for a moment, clutching his hot pocket in his hand. It looked like he had taken about two bites. Oh, yum, a hot pocket sounded good…but I couldn't get distracted. Spencer looked startled to see me. It was obvious on his face. I sat on the couch, officiously chewing on the end of a pipe. I have no idea why I kept it. It was tucked in between the cushions in the couch I nabbed, and who knows who used it before me?

"Hey Spence," I greeted to his shocked expression. It wasn't every day you saw the girl you 'accidentally' lost your virginity to sitting in front of your apartment complex with an exact replica of your living room around her. That's probably why he gave me the weird look coming out the door. He probably thought I took his entire living room out onto the front lawn of Bushwell Plaza.

"Hey, cool couch. Looks loud," he said, at a loss for words. I don't blame him. It was a strange sight.

"Yeah, I swiped it from Mrs. O'Connor," I said proudly.

"Cool." He didn't have anything else to say.

"Your shorts are looking especially gold today," I said, trying desperately to make small talk.

"Carls uses color safe bleach."

"Go, Carly." I hoped this wasn't bothering him as much as it was bothering me. His eyes bore into my head. He eyed the pipe suspiciously; I cocked an eyebrow. "So guess what?" I said, taking the pipe out of my mouth entirely.

He shrugged. "I don't know…"

"I'm pregnant." Stunned silence filled the air. I put my feet up on the wood armrest of the couch, rotating myself so that I was lying on the couch but still facing Spencer. He didn't know what to say and he looked like he was going to pass out. He was losing color from his cheeks.

"I guess so," he said lamely. He started to fidget with his wristbands. "What are you going to do?"

The Marathon For Life runners ran by. I turned to look at them. They were _so_ lame. They waved and hollered at us, telling Spencer to go join them. I raised my eyebrows quickly, then my eyes darted to their shorts. When I see them running like that, with their…_things_ bouncing around in their shorts, I always picture them naked even if I don't want to. All I see are intrusive thoughts.

"You know I'm supposed to be running," Spencer told me.

"I know."

The silence was more awkward than anything else I had ever experienced, other than sharing my first kiss with Freddie and breaking up with him a week later, then still trying to be friends—yeah, I dated Freddork secretly for a week. It didn't go well so I went to Spencer, and…well, you know where we're at.

"So, what do you think we should do?" Spencer asked nervously.

"I thought I might, you know, nip it in the bud before it gets worse. Because I heard in health class that pregnancy often results in an infant." Wow. That was a really stupid speech. The only time an infant didn't result was when there was a miscarriage or abortion. I was getting the abortion, of course, but still…it was stupid of me to say.

"Yeah, wizard, I guess. I mean that's often what happens when moms and teachers get pregnant. You just do what you think is right, I guess."

"I'm real sorry I had sex with you," I said, getting up and crossing to my bike. Carly and I kept it well hidden. It was in with the furniture but hidden from view, until I picked it up. "I know it wasn't your idea."

"Whose idea was it?" I kicked up the kickstand.

"See you at your apartment," I said, mounting my bike and taking off.

"Whose idea was it…?" Spencer mumbled to no one in particular as I left.

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I pushed my crappy bike into the bike rack once I got to Ridgeway, winding my lock around it. My lock was even cheaper than my bike. As I walked into school I passed three nerds playing a live-action RPG. One spoke to the others as I passed.

"…You did not! You don't have the armor. That Orc Armor you bought from the wizard doesn't have the power level to parry my hit!"

I snorted as I passed. "Dorks."

I tried to push through the masses, but the throng of students was thick and unyielding. I often had to shove the people in front of me to get through. No one seemed to notice me. Period.

I unlocked my locker and started to rummage through it. My locker was plastered with pictures of Carly and Spencer, plus a giant poster of Cuttlefish from their heyday. I grabbed my dilapidated physics textbook. A few papers—old assignments half done that I hadn't bothered to turn in—were shoved precariously in the book. I dropped my book and it fell apart. I sighed, kneeling down to pick them up, when none other than Alexander Maxwell—the same asshole who harassed me on my way to the drugstore—passed by. He slowed slightly when he saw me, in attempt to harass me _again._

"Hey, your book fell apart!" he said. _Real-ly?!_

"Yeah," I said, gathering the papers while still looking at him.

"It must have seen your face. _PWAH!_" he said, finally leaving. I rolled my eyes. What an idiot. He high-fived other jocks.

The funny thing is that Alexander Maxwell secretly wants me. Jocks like him always want freaky girls. Girls with horn-rimmed glasses and vegan footwear and Goth make-up. Girls who play the cello and wear Converse All-Stars and want to be children's librarians when they grow up. Oh, yeah, jocks _totally_ eat that shit up. They just won't admit it because they're supposed to be into perfect cheerleaders like Carly. Who, incidentally, pretends to be into teachers so they'll leave her alone.

I looked down the hall at Carly. She was talking with a teacher, and in the distance, I could make out a fuzzy sentence of their conversation:

"Me too! I_ love_ Woody Allen!

Alexander—I mean Maxwell, I reminded myself for the bazillionth time—looked back at me for a moment, with a look of mixed feelings on his face. He then continued on.

I slammed my locker as I went to my first class, physics. I got there in the nick of time—I walked in about ten seconds before the teacher did, and the bell rang as the teacher waltzed in. I walked towards my desk and set down my bag as the teacher started talking.

"People!" he said, getting attention that he really shouldn't have wanted. "We're doing our photo magnetism lab today, so find your partners and break out into fours."

My partner was Freddie, and we still haven't _officially _gotten over the whole dating thing yet, so this class was awkward. Sound the gong of awkwardness!

We head separately over to an available lab station and unpack our bags in silence. Like I said, awkward.

"Well!" I said, breaking the silence in mock and real interest combined. "Nothing like experimenting."

"I did the prep questions for this lab last night," Freddork says, taking a paper out of the rings of his binder. "You can copy my answers if you need to." He slides the paper over to me. He doesn't look at me.

"Oh, I couldn't copy your work," I said, even though I copy his work every week.

"But you copy my work every week," Fredweird reminds me.

"Oh, yeah, I'm kind of a deadbeat lab partner, huh?" I asked, thinking to myself, _What am I _saying?

"I don't mind. You definitely bring something to the table."

"Charisma?" Ironic, a synonym of charisma is magnetism, and the lab we were doing was photo magnetism. Ha. The irony.

"Or something," he muttered as another pair joined us at our lab station. They were a humorless couple. It was Jonah and Wendy. I wanted to punch Jonah in the face—not only did he want to kiss Carly while we were dating, but he was also _seeing Wendy behind my back._ Not happy.

"So, who's ready for some photo magnificence?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I have a menstrual migraine so I can't look at bright lights today," Wendy said. TMI, much?

"Wendy, I told you to go to the infirmary and lie down. You never listen," Jonah said vehemently. Catfight. Both me and Freduardo pretended not to be interested.

"No, Jonah, I don't take orders. Not from you and not from any man." Ooh, that one was cold…

"You know, you've been acting like this since I went up to see my brother at Mankato. I told you, nothing happened!" I could only imagine what _did_ happen that Jonah was keeping from her.

"Something happened. Because your eyes? Are very cold. They're very cold, Jonah. They're cold, lying eyes." How could someone's _eyes_ be _lying?_ I made a mental note of it for the next time I lied.

"_What?_ My eyes are not lying!" Oh. So _maybe_ it was fake.

"Yes they are Jonah. Since Mankato, they have been lying eyes." Or maybe it was real…

Fredward and I observed the argument like tennis spectators, fascinated by the dynamics of a real couple. If we'd only know that junk when we were a couple…

"Okay…" Freddie said, trying to change the subject and get on task. "…I'm going to set up the apparatus. Sam, want to get a C-clamp out of that drawer?"

Before I had a chance to respond, Wendy said, "I'm going to the infirmary." To me it seemed like she was just trying to get out the lab rather than recover from a migraine.

"Good! Call me when you're _off_ the rag!" Jonah said. A few people turned to look at him.

"Fine. Call _me_ when you learn how to love just one person and not cheat at your brother's college just because you had four Smirnoff Ices and a bottle of Snow Peak Peach Flavored Boone's!" She stormed off.

"Good, I'll be sure to do that, Wendy. I'll make a note of it." He scribbled a note violently in his notebook, slamming his pen down when he was done. Yikes.

Trying to lighten the mood, I said, "I've heard peace is the best flavor of Boone's. Is that right, Freddork?" I added, just to make sure I didn't make a mistake.

Freddie reddened and continued to set up the apparatus thing. Wendy came back, snatched her bag, and stalked off dramatically. Freddie shook his head and rifled through his textbook.

And yes, it _was_ a long period that day.

* * *

**Okay, that's all for now. Please review.**

**Eeveelution-Fangirl: I love Juno and iCarly too. Best shit made. :) And a lot of characters are going to be OOC in this story, but mainly Carly and Freddie, with the occasional Sam and Spencer. Thanks for reviewing! :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**Boredom made me update so early. Plus I want to get farther in this story than what I'm at. Please review! :P**

* * *

I examine an ad in the paper. The ad has a pregnant girl doing this overdramatic pose and the ad says, "Pregnant? Find the clinic that gives women choice. Women Now Health Center." At the bottom of the add it has the number to dial. I wrote it down on my hand.

I went to my bedroom and picked up my hamburger phone. I almost copied the girl's pose in the ad but then I realized, yeah, I'm not a miserable girl. A voice prompt speaking in Spanish came on. I copied the words with the prompt.

"Para instrucciones en Español, oprima número dos."

It then went on to say if I wanted English to press a bunch of buttons, and I pressed them all in succession. There was a pause and then the operator came on.

"Yes, hello, I need to procure a hasty abortion," I said. The operator replied but it came out muffled and in a low voice. "What was that? I'm sorry, I'm on my hamburger phone and it's kind of awkward to talk on. It's really more of a novelty than a functional appliance. Hold on." I took the phone away from my ear and shook it and smacked it a few times. I then brought it back to my ear. "Better? Okay, good. Yeah, as I said, I need an abortion…uh, sixteen… Um, it was about two months ago since _the _sex, mind you that's just a guesstimation…" She asked me a bunch of dates of what would work for me. "Okay, next Saturday? Great." She then said the few words that I hated to hear:

"How long have you been sexually active?"

I groaned inwardly. "It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, really. So next Saturday?" She confirmed the date and I hung up.

I hate it when adults use the term 'sexually active'—what does it even mean, anyway? Can I deactive someday or is it a permanent state of being? I first heard the term in health class when they were giving us the sex ed part of the year and the teacher put a freaking condom on a banana. Yeah, like a _banana_ is going to have sex. I ate the banana after class.

But I guess Spencer went live the night we did it. I guess he hadn't done it before, considering he hasn't been married and can never keep a girlfriend, and that's probably why he got that look on his face—his moment of deflowering, his face was comically wide-eyed and his mouth was open, plus he had a look of shock on his face.

* * *

That night at dinner, me, my stepfather, my mom, and my half sister Madison. (A/N: I decided to throw the name Madison in there so that the name won't be entirely removed from the story.) Ever since Mom got married, we sit at a typical kitchen dinner—I got the trait of becoming pregnant with my boyfriend's child from her, as Madison was born out of wedlock—as my mom cuts my sister's potato for her. She's only six—you expect her to do it herself? Besides, Madison and sharp objects do not mix.

My stepdad started to talk about his day. I had zoned out for most of it but I did manage to catch some of it. "You should have seen this octopus furnace. I had to get my Hazmat suit just to get in there…"

My stepdad John used to be in the army, but now he's just your average HVAC specialist. My mom and my dad got divorced when I was five. My real dad lives on a Havasu reservation in Arizona with his new wife and three replacement kids. Oh, and he inexplicably mails me a cactus every Valentine's Day. I seriously have a pile of neglected cacti in the corner of my bedroom.

Then there's my mom, Melissa. She's obsessed with dogs, but she can barely keep a person alive, let alone a dog. She owns a nail salon called Bren's Tens—it used to belong to my Grandma Brenda—and she always smells like methylmethacrylate.

Madison coughed pitifully while my mom cut her potato.

"So, Sam, how did your little maneuver go last night?" John asked.

"Which maneuver, sir? The one in which I moved an entire living room set from one lawn to another or the one in which I cleared a sixty-four ounce blue slushie in ten minutes?" Yum. That was some good whatever the heck they put in those things.

"Sam?" my mom asks. "Did you happen to barf in my urn?" She knew about that? "John, you know that nice urn by the front door, the one I got up in Forks? I found some weird blue shit—I mean stuff, _gunk_—in there this morning." She only said stuff and gunk cause Madison's here, but she never did that for me. I knew the 'f' word by the time I was three.

I shrugged. "I would never barf in your urn, Mom. Maybe MB did it." Madison's nickname is MB because her middle name is Brianna. It's easier to say than Madison about half the time.

MB looked up at the conversation from her bacon bits that she was practically pouring blithely on her potato—she learned from me. I hoped she finished soon—my potato was awfully lonely with no bacon. Finally, John noticed the unusual amount of pig on her potato.

"Madison Brianna, if I see one more bacon bit on that potato I'm going to kick your little monkey butt!"

She finished putting on the final handful and put the jar thing back on the Lazy Susan.

* * *

The next Saturday I trudged toward the entrance of the abortion clinic. I recognized a lone abortion protestor immediately as Tureen. She was holding a hugely oversized sign with a picture of a baby that said in huge capital letters, "No babies like abortion." She was chanting something as I came nearer.

"All babies want to get borned! All babies want to get borned! All babies—" She stopped when she saw me approaching.

"Uh, hi, Tureen!" I said as warmly as possible.

"Oh, hi, Sam." Suddenly she sounded shy. She had changed a lot since eighth grade—she didn't talk nearly so fast anymore. "How are you?"

"Good. I'm good." I paused, trying to make small talk. "Did you finish that paper for Garner's class yet?"

"No, not yet. I tried to work a little bit on it last night but I'm having a little trouble concentrating."

"You should try some Adderall."

"No thanks. I'm off pills."

"Wise move," I said nodding. "I know this girl who had a huge crazy freak-out because she took too many behavioral meds at once. She took off her clothes—" I pantomimed ripping a shirt off. "—and jumped into the fountain at Ridgeway Mall and she was like, 'Blyyyyyyyy, I'm a kraken from the sea!'"

"I heard that was you."

That made me irritated but I didn't let it show. I paused. "Well, it was nice seeing you." I walked towards the clinic. She started yelling things at me, but I didn't turn around.

"Sam!"

I stopped, but I didn't bother to turn around.

"Your baby probably has a beating heart, you know! It can feel pain. And it has fingernails!"

Wow. Wait. A tiny undeveloped person has _fingernails?_ I turned around. "Really? Fingernails?" I examined my nails for a second but continued walking. I pushed open the clinic door and went to the front desk. The receptionist was behind bullet proof glass and she was reading a magazine. The waiting area had pregnant women, misbehaved teens, and rambunctious, ill-behaved kids. It was semi-crowded.

"Welcome to Women Now where women are trusted friends. Please put your hands where I can see them and surrender any weapons or bombs." She talked with a bored attitude like she'd rather be somewhere else.

I put my hands up, flashing my best jazz hands. "Hi. I'm here for the big show?"

"Your name please?" She reached forward and grabbed a clipboard.

"Sam Puckett."

She cocked an eyebrow at me as she wrote it down. She thought I was using a fake name like Gene Simmons or Mother Theresa.

She handed me the clipboard and a pen. "I need you to fill these out, both sides. And don't skip the hairy details. We need to know about every score and every sore."

I lingered for a moment, examining the form. She reached out to a plastic jar with a bunch of purple rubbers. She picked up a handful of the ubiquitous condoms. "Would you like some free condoms? They're boysenberry."

"No, thank you. I'm off sex." I secretly would have loved one, but just to smell, not to use. If it was truly boysenberry flavored—and I'm not sure how that's possible—they'd smell _delicious._

"My partner uses them every time we have intercourse. They make his junk smell like pie."

TMI.

"Congrats."

I took a seat in the waiting room and started to fill out the form. I rifled through a pile of old magazines out of boredom. They had stuff like mommy mags and Family Digest. I picked up an issue of Family and flipped through it. Then I looked over and saw a teen playing with her nails. She looked as nervous as I did. She bit her thumbnail and spat it out on the floor.

I turned away, keeping my eyes off her nails, Tureen's words echoing in my head. _It has fingernails._ Suddenly, I saw fingernails _everywhere._ The receptionist clicked her nails on the desk. Another woman blew on her fresh manicure. Another person scratched their arms—which desperately needed a shave, by the way. And yet another person was filing their nails. I looked and felt terror-stricken.

"Excuse me, Miss Poockett?" The receptionist had come over to get me. Suddenly I threw down the clipboard. I ran out the door quickly. The receptionist craned her neck and saw the door gently drift shut. There was no way I could go through with it then.

I ran through the street as fast as I could, passing Tureen. She smiled as I went by, calling after me, "God appreciates your miracle!" At that moment, I didn't care if _a hobo_ appreciated my miracle. I couldn't think straight as I ran.

I ran straight to Bushwell. Carly was standing outside looking bored and I slowed to a stop in front of her.

"Hey, dumbass, I thought I was supposed to pick you up at five."

"I couldn't do it, Carly." I was kind of spinning in an awkward circle. "It smelled like a dentist's office in there. And they had these really horrible magazines, with like spritz cookie recipes and water stains. And the receptionist tried giving me these weird condoms that looked like grape suckers, and she told me about her boyfriend's pie balls!"

"Yum," Carly said laughing.

"And Tureen was there! And she told me, 'oh, yeah, the baby has fingernails'. _Fingernails!_"

"Gruesome. I wonder if the baby's claws could, like, scratch your vag on the way out or something?" She imitated a mutant baby and scratched at the air. She learned her gruesome story from me, I'm sure.

I hesitated before saying, "I'm staying pregnant, Carly."

"Keep your voice down, dude!" She said, coming down the steps and closer to me. "My granddad's in there somewhere, and he doesn't know that we're sexually active!"

"What does that even _mean?_" I asked, frustrated. "Anyway, I got to thinking on the way over. I was thinking maybe I could give the baby to somebody who actually likes that kind of thing. Like a woman with a bum ovary or a pair of nice Lesbos!"

"But then you'll get huge. And you'll have to tell everyone you're pregnant."

"I know. Maybe they'll canonize me for being so selfless."

"Maybe they'll totally shit and be super mad at you and not let you graduate or go to Cabo San Lucas for spring break."

"Spencer and I were going to Gettysburg for spring break."

Carly sighs, as if there's no helping me at this point. Suddenly her face lights up as if she gets an idea. "Well, maybe you could look at one of those adoption ads. I see them all the time in the _Seattle Times._"

"There are _ads_ for parents?" Wow.

"Oh, yeah! 'Desperately Seeking Spawn.' They're right by the ads for like iguanas and puppies and used sports equipment. It's totally legit."

"Come on, Carly. I can't scope out wannabe parents in the _Seattle Times!_ That's tacky. That's like buying clothes at the Pump N Munch."

* * *

Carly and I sat on a park bench reading the _Seattle Times._ There, Carly, I listened to you! We were wearing the coolest sunglasses ever, each of us slurping blue slushies. I had my pipe with me.

"The _Seattle Times_ sucks," I said looking at the completely bogus ads.

"Yeah, but it sucks for free," Carly objected. Alright, it was true—in front of a Skybucks Coffee, we got two free issues of the _Times._

Our teeth and lips were Windex blue as we turned the pages in the 'Desperately Seeking Spawn' ads in silence—it was actually called 'Desperately Seeking Spawn'. Amazing. I will never understand this newspaper.

"Look at this one," Carly said, spotting one. "'Wholesome, spiritually wealthy couple have found true love for each other. All that's missing is your bastard.'"

I read a different page with a tacky picture of a guy next to a really old piano. "There's a guy in here that giving away a piano. Free for the hauling! We should put it in front of Bushwell!" I sighed.

"You're not listening to me," Carly said dejectedly.

"No, I heard you. I just don't want to give the baby away to people that describe themselves as 'wholesome'. I'm looking for something edgier."

"What did you have in mind?" Carly said in annoyance. "A family of disturbed loners who are into gunplay and incest?"

"I was thinking a graphic designer, mid-thirties, and his cool Asian wife who dresses awesome and plays bass. But I'm trying not to be too particular." Okay, that was _very_ particular.

"All right, how about this one? 'Healthy, educated couple seeking infant to join our family of five. You will be compensated. Help us complete the circle of love.'"

"Yeesh, they sound like a cult!" I cried in frustration. At this rate, we'd never find anyone. "Besides, they're just greedy little bitches, they've already got three kids."

Carly laughed and went back to her newspaper. Her face lit up. "Hey, Sam, look at this one!"

She handed me the newspaper and I looked at it, taking my shades off to see it further. It was an attractive couple. The wife was actually _Asian_ like I had asked for, which was a coincidence. The ad read, "Educated, successful couple wishes to…" I stopped reading their description. They were Justin and Amanda Smith, and they were beautiful even in black and white.

* * *

**That's all for now. Please review. Also, I have pictures of some of my OC's on my profile if you want to see what they look like. Also, I do not have the movie _Juno._ I use a movie script off a website that includes lines that were taken out, and in the final version of the movie, lines were added that were not in my script. The link to the script, too, is on my profile, along with the sunglasses Carly and Sam wore.**

**Eeveelution-Fangirl: Yeah, I started laughing when I wrote about Wendy and Jonah. It's pretty funny. :P And yeah, I like it when occasionally a story has a character that's OOC.**

**:D**


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